


Surprises Come in all Packages

by theorbess540



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Happy also deserves a raise, He's just as fantastic as Pepper, Irondad, Pepper Potts is a freakin' angel, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, She gets crap done, They're both confused, This author appreciates Rhodey, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, but they're trying, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:26:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorbess540/pseuds/theorbess540
Summary: “Mr. Stark?” Peter sat on the edge of the metal table, practically vibrating from anxious nerves. He stuck his pressed together hands between his thighs as his left foot twitched in discomfort. “Could you tell, uh, tell me why you wanted to see my DNA?”





	1. Discovery

“Mr. Stark?” Peter sat on the edge of the metal table, practically vibrating from anxious nerves. He stuck his pressed together hands between his thighs as his left foot twitched in discomfort. “Could you tell, uh, tell me why you wanted to see my DNA?”

That was one of his questions for sure, but as good as it was it definitely wasn’t his top one. The real top dollar question was why was he here in the Avenger’s Compound with freaking Iron-Man of all people after turning down the same man’s offer to join the best superhero team of the universe only a couple weeks earlier. The second place question was ‘Why he was Tony Stark’s personal lab?’. The DNA question took third. 

When Happy had first shown up at school and dragged him away without a word, Peter was worried. Usually Mr. Stark or Happy or someone sent a text if they needed something, but Peter hadn’t gotten any message. Which meant that this was an unplanned trip. Unplanned trips usually meant something was up, and if something was up it was usually Peter’s fault. Did he do something wrong? 

He couldn’t think of anything that would draw Mr. Stark’s attention enough to pull an unplanned trip. Patrol had gone fine. No injuries or bruises, he hadn’t broken anything since he got the new suit back. He reported everyday like asked and Happy answered just slightly more often then he had before Homecoming— really that translated to one thirty second voicemail of Happy awkwardly telling Peter he had done a good job. Super weird, but it made Peter feel good on the inside regardless — so it couldn’t come from that front.

He’d had even been keeping May’s curfew, so Peter wasn’t in trouble over that. Eleven pm on weekdays and two am on the weekends. He had grumbled about it for a week before May sat him down and told him some news that switched his attitude so fast it wasn’t funny. In fact, Peter came home early every night just to spend some time with her. So really, he couldn’t think of any reason why Mr. Stark would want to see him. 

Did he do something bad and didn’t know it? That single thought, of course, kicked his already active imagination into overdrive. It got terribly descriptive as bad scenario after bad scenario jumped through his brain as Happy slowly made his way down to the Compound. Every second on the drive to the Compound passed by with agonizing slowness. Peter was a living bundle of jumpy nerves by the time they made it to the Compound and to Tony Stark’s workshop. 

He nearly died when Mr. Stark ordered him onto the table with a stern voice. He nearly died again, this time from relief and a lot of confusion, when Mr. Stark turned on him wielding a mouth swab and ordered him to “Open up.” 

Mr. Stark plugged the saliva cover swab into a small hole in the console. He typed on the holographic keyboard for a couple seconds before he spun away and leaned against the table right next to Peter. “Well kid, you said your powers came from a spider bite right?”

Peter squinted at him suspiciously. What did that have to do with anything right now? “Right.”

Mr. Stark drummed his fingers on the metal table, acting about as twitchy as Peter felt right now. “So the spider obviously did something that changed your body, which is why you're sticky and spidery. Now, we all know I'm a naturally curious person, so I figured I’d take a quick peek and your DNA and see what’s up.”

“Really? That’s actually really cool Mr. Stark! Can you tell me if you find some like super-secret hidden powers or something like that?” Peter perked up. That was a super cool reason to drag him up here without any warning! “Do you think I might be venomous or something? I know some species of spiders do have poison, and since I don’t know what type of spider bit me there might be a chance that I could develop poison! That would be so cool! But then I might have to be careful because if I bite someone then we’d had to get an antidote for my venom so it might not be as cool if I accidentally killed someone. It would probably have to go on a record and I do not want murder on any record linked to me.” 

Mr. Stark stared at him for a couple seconds before an amused grin spread across his face. “Sure kid. I’ll let’cha know if I find anything.” 

Peter beamed. “Thanks Mr. Stark!”

They both went quiet and the content mood sunk into awkwardness. Mr. Stark sniffed and folded his arms. Peter stared at his knees and tried to keep his whole leg from twitching. Should, should he say something? ‘Hey, Mr. Stark, how’s your day going?’ No, that was too typical. Really boring. How about ‘How’s Miss Potts? I saw that you two got engaged’. Was that too personal? It felt like it could be, but Peter wasn’t sure if he was ‘there yet’ with Mr. Stark. Maybe not enough for a hug, but he definitely felt like they were a little closer now. Would it be okay for him to ask?

Mr. Stark sighed and shifted his position. “So… kid, how’s your aunt?”

Peter’s half-smile dropped and gloom rose up from the depths. His shoulders slumped. Mr. Stark must have sensed this was a bad question because he stiffened but Peter spoke before he could apologize. “She’s doing fine. I’m still adjusting, but I’ll be fine. May’s gonna have her first treatment in a couple weeks. The hospital is giving us a discount because she worked there for so long, so we’re not about to drown under more bills then usual, so you don’t have to worry about us, Mr. Stark. It’s no problem, really.”

“Crap kid, that was a terrible question.” Mr. Stark said. His folded arms tightened, which rumpled the face of the cat shirt he wore until the face somehow looked sad. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.” 

“You’re fine. You didn’t really know.” Peter didn’t sniff or fight off tears, though it was very close. 

“Yeah.” Mr. Stark leaned back more on the table, his eyes to the ceiling. “It still sucks though. When it's mentioned.”

“Yeah.” This time, Peter really did sniff.

Mr. Starked patted him on the shoulder, a quick patpat like he didn’t want to touch Peter more then he had to. “Okay. That’s enough emotions for today. Time to send you home before your aunt notices you’ve been here too long and decides she wants to have my head again. Happy will drive ya.” 

“Sure. Sounds good.” Peter agreed and slowly slid off the table. “See ya later, Mr. Stark.”

“Bye kid.” 

Peter glanced around the room as he meandered to the door. Mr. Stark’s lab was actually pretty cool now that he could focus enough to look. Pieces of Iron-man suits were scattered across the entire room, all in different states of construction and deconstruction. There had to be at least twenty different holo-screens opened with schematics for different projects, and there was even this cool, mysterious glowing thing that kinda looked like a large version of a Chitari reactor squashed into a corner— He half wanted to touch it and see if it was warm, but Mr. Stark would yell at him and Peter had learned his lesson from the Decathlon field trip about touching weird alien technology —that flashed menacingly every five seconds. Peter vaguely wondered if it would explode. There were several metal tables like the one he sat on earlier, each one loaded with at least four mugs that smelt like old coffee and a lot of scrapped pieces of metal. 

Really, it kind of reminded Peter of his bedroom. Just take away anything that looked even remotely cool and replace it with homework, candy wrappers, trinkets, clothes, and it would be pretty close match. It even had that same unorganized-organized mess sort of feel. May hated seeing his room a mess, but she knew there was no way around it. Peter was just too distracted to clean up. He couldn’t concentrate long enough. If she stood and watched him to clean, then they would both get distracted and then nothing in their house would get done. 

Actually, maybe he should do that when he got home before he went on patrol. It might cheer May up a little. He could concentrate long enough to make May happy. She needed it, and Peter needed it too. 

Fingers snapped from behind him, and Peter turned to find that Mr. Stark was examining the DNA console closely, but he had dedicated one of his hands to snap at Peter without turning. “Actually, kid, before you go, could you get me some coffee real quick? It’s just in the wall over by you.” 

“Uh, yeah, sure. No problem Mr. Stark.” Peter scurried to the closest wall before he frowned and whispered under his breath as he stared at the smooth metal surface. “In the wall? How can it be in the wall?” 

That question answered itself. A black outline of a box appeared on the wall and, to Peter’s amazement, jutted out for a second and flipped over like one of the secret spy panels from the movies to reveal a modified industrial coffee machine. 

“Holy crap!” Peter whispered. 

The coffee machine went ding and a section of the bottom opened up and pushed a mug full of black steaming coffee out. 

“Holy crap.” Peter whispered again. He had so many questions. 

Mr. Stark let out a quiet chuckle. 

Peter grabbed the mug and ran back to the front of the room as fast as he could without tripping. He handed Mr. Stark the coffee reverently, still in amazement. “That’s so cool Mr. Stark! How did you do that?” 

Mr. Stark took a sip. “Pet project. I was tired of having to wait for coffee to be brought to me so I-” 

The DNA console flashed and F.R.I.D.A.Y interrupted them. “Boss, I found something that might interest you.” 

Peter perked up. Did she find something with his DNA already? That was fast. Didn’t DNA work actually take a really long time? All the YouTube videos he watched said that tv shows were full of crap when it came to the speed of DNA testing. He’d been pretty disappointed about that. It was always sad when tv science turned out to be fake, which was why Mr. Stark’s tech was so cool. It was tv come to life, so it wasn’t a surprise that his DNA analyzer was fast.

Mr. Stark took another sip of coffee before he gave his full attention to the AI. “Really? Wow, that was fast. Alright, spill already. Don’t keep us waiting.” 

“It has to do with Mr. Parker’s DNA.” F.R.I.D.A.Y announced. 

“No, really?” Mr. Stark snarked. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, please, call him Peter. Mr. Parker sounds way too stiff. And let me guess, the kid actually is venomous?” 

“Unfortunately for Peter, no. I was running his DNA through my records when I found something interesting and I think you might find important.” 

There went the venomous idea. That was a disappointment and a relief at the same time. No accidental murders for Peter. Maybe there will be another surprise.

Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow at his mug. “Well don’t hold us in anymore suspense F.R.I, I think the kid might die from excitement.” He raised the mug to his mouth and took a long draught. 

“It appears that Peter happens to share forty-nine percent of your DNA.” 

Coffee exploded from Mr. Stark’s mouth. His coffee mug slammed onto the console as Mr. Stark bent over. Peter’s jaw dropped and his face went white. Mr. Stark started to cough as two separate DNA visuals appeared on the DNA console. Lines popped onto the screen and highlighted the similarities between the two pieces of organic code. 

“The DNA is too different to be a clone,” F.R.I.D.A.Y continued. She almost sounded thoughtful. “It appears to be the kind of transfer that happens between parent and offspring.” 

Mr. Stark’s choking sounds doubled.


	2. How Tony Takes It

Once his throat cleared, Tony Stark, a certified genius, multi-billionaire, philanthropist, world renowned superhero, inventor, panicked. 

There was no other word for it. He panicked. His brain shut down, his thought process stopped, and he panicked. 

This was bound to happen. He knew it. The statistics were not in his favor and he was too drunk half the time to remember if he’d used a condom every time he slept with someone. Even then there was a slight chance the condom didn’t work. During his party years there had been a lot of women who claimed they were pregnant with his child. It left him on edge every time. Thankfully they all were disproven and sent away with a little hush-money (Obie’s idea, not Tony’s). 

The idea of having an illegitimate child haunted him during that period. When he thought about it. When the first pregnancy scare had popped up, he nearly threw up in front of her. Once he made it back from the toilet and sent her away, Tony had thrown himself into all the research possible. His mind spun with probabilities, statistics, and doubts until the results came back. 

It was negative. They always came back negative. It was a huge relief off his shoulders the first time, and he’d quietly ushered the embarrassed blonde out his office and life. Now aware of this new threat, it added another section to his paranoia. The pregnancy claims faded as time went on and his life became a walking public hazard. His concerns shifted to other things like Iron-Man, saving the world, and dealing with his own set pathetic problems.

During the few rare moments he allowed for the possibility of him having a kid, Tony always imagined this certain scene. The kid— usually a girl for some reason—he’d never seen before would strut into his life, and cockily state that they were his child revealed to them by a letter from a dead relative. The kid would turn his and the Avengers’ lives upside down. They’d all fit together instantly, no awkward bumbling or adjusting, and slowly the Avengers’ whole world would revolve around his kid. The whole team would love his kid; but never as much as Tony would. Pepper would practically adopt the kid and Tony would become a better person who didn’t make the same stupid mistakes over and over again just so he wouldn’t make his kid cry. Then they would all live a perfect happy life in their giant Avengers family. 

Complete and utter nonsense. A fantasy that would never come true. Tony knew it. Which was why he never let himself think about it, especially after that whole Germany airport showdown and Siberia. 

Until now. 

Now when he literally was face-to-face with it. 

All those long forgotten anxieties bubbled back up with a passion and flooded his brain until all he could think was one thing. He had a kid. 

So Tony panicked. Big time. On the inside at least. His insides were all mushy and panicked, but his outside was set in stone. He had way too many emotions— fear, concern, joy, anger, confusion, surprise, panic, worry, worry, panic —that his body decided to show none of them. Tony was pretty sure his eyes had gone wide and his face paled, but that was the only sign of the pure chaos going on underneath. 

He stared at Peter like an idiot. He knew he was, but he couldn’t get his body to move, and he couldn’t get himself to look away either. Peter— his kid, oh gosh, his son —stared back, his own eyes wide and face pale as his hands trembled. 

Tony’s subconscious screamed at him to move, go help Peter because he was in pain and he needs help and those innocent brown eyes teemed with confusion— and was that hurt? Please let that not be hurt, that was way too much for him to handle right now —and Tony just stood there like an idiot, barely able to think. 

Without warning, his arms jerked up and placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders and twisted the limp teenager around. His arms felt wrong. This situation felt wrong. His whole body felt wrong. Tony’s movements were too stiff and jerky, like a wooden puppet. He watched as his body moved and interact independently of his brain with a sense of detachment. His palms dug into Peter’s jacket as his legs started to push him towards the lab door.

Tony wanted to scream at himself. What was he doing!? He can’t kick Peter out of the lab! That was the opposite of what either of them needed right now!

He didn’t stop though. Tony couldn’t stop. His stupid puppet legs and stupid puppet arms kept pushing despite his mental protests. 

Peter offered no resistance. He mindlessly obeyed, too shocked to even form a legible sentence much less process what was going on. Tony wasn’t processing it himself either. 

Tony blinked and suddenly they were at the lab door. He watched numbly as his puppet hands punched the door code in with shaky puppet fingers and pushed Peter out with his puppet arms. 

Peter stumbled out of the room, the shock made him recover with the balance of a drunk man. Then he turned around and blasted Tony with the most heart wrenching stare Tony Stark had ever had the displeasure to be on the other side of. Tony’s heart sunk. 

‘I’m sorry kid.’ Was what he wanted to say. ‘I’m sorry I’m a terrible person and just dropped this bomb on you and now kicking you out like a heartless piece of crap when you are obviously suffering, and I just want you to know this isn’t your fault and we’ll get through this together, I swear.’ 

“I,” Tony’s traitorous puppet voice stuttered. “I, I need to figure this out.” 

The lab door slid shut. 

Tony stared at the glass door, stared at his kid who stared back with a blank face before the kid stumbled back without any of his usual grace and climbed up the stairs with agonizing slowness. Tony wanted to scream, pound on the door, call Peter back, ask for forgiveness, but the puppet body wouldn’t move. It only stared at the door long past his son disappeared up the stairs.

What had he done? 

That thought shuffled through Tony’s brain with uncomfortable speed and with rightful pain he deserved. What had he done? He had kicked Peter out. No warning, no words, no emotions when the kid was just as emotionally compromised as Tony was. Probably even more. Tony had at least played with the thought that he might have a kid out there, but Peter probably hadn't even suspected the possibility that Richard Parker— and yes, Tony had looked up Peter’s parents before going to meet the kid three months ago, it was no wonder his mom looked vaguely familiar —wasn’t his flesh and blood dad. 

Crap, and Tony had actually kicked him out. He’d looked him in the eye as he guided his kid out of the lab and told him to get out before he slammed the door in Peter’s face like some kind of emotionless butthole. What kind of person did that? The kid’s world had just changed forever and Tony had kicked him out. Tony had kicked out his kid. Kicked out his son. Why? Why did he do that? He should have stayed and talked. They could have panicked together, sorted out their feelings while they processed together over hot chocolate and coffee. Literally any other reaction would have been better. Instead, Tony left the kid to flounder on his own while Tony shut the literal and metaphorical door in his face. 

Then, like some sort of demon who emerged from the dark with the sole purpose was to drive Tony’s mental health through the floor, a thought passed through his mind. That was a move his dad would have pulled. 

Tony reeled back. No. No. He wasn’t about to go down that path. That was a bad path. It led to a lot of dark things that Tony couldn’t afford to get into. He’d already gone down that lane way too many times to be healthy. Tony wasn’t Howard. He was better than Howard. He was twice the man Howard was. He stopped making weapons, he became a superhero, saved the world, got engaged to a beautiful woman who he didn’t deserve, made friends, lost friends. 

Tony was better than his dad, but Howard’s blood did flow through Tony’s veins. There were some traits shared between the two of them. The same intelligence, the same charisma, the same alcoholism, the same ability to mess up everything they touched. Honesty, he was a worse mess then his dad had been sometimes. Which isn’t surprising considering that Tony was related to Howard. 

Now that same blood ran through Peter’s veins. 

The thought hit him like Mjolnir to the chest. Tony let out a breathy gasp, his chest tight. He needed to think about something else. Something that wouldn’t hurt to think about. A distraction. He needed a distraction.

He took a step back and stumbled, suddenly in control of his body again. He took another step and dragged himself to the closest holo-screen, shaky non-puppet fingers reached for the schematics of a new Quinjet design he was working on. An older project he’d started before Germany, before the airport fight, before Pe- that he’d shoved to the side and reluctantly picked back up recently at General Ross’s urging. The new version was supposed to fly on cleaner power along with a few other minor renovations. A downgraded version of the engine was going to be sold to the public to help improve public transportation. 

Not that it mattered right now. What mattered as that the project was unfinished, so it was work. Work meant numbers and procrastination and not thinking about emotions for hours on end while he powered through the complicated math and science. His two favorite subjects. Math and science were logical. They could be taken at face value and were either right or wrong. They didn’t have grey areas or issues that couldn’t be fixed. 

There were times Tony wished he was a math or science problem. They didn’t have to deal with stress or other people. They didn’t worry about emotions and dealing with emotional problems or making mistakes.

Now, to boost the Quinjet engine performance, he needed to enhance the boosters another twelve percent, but they became too unstable around ten so he’d have to find a way around that and…. 

____________________________________________________________________________

“Miss Potts?”

Pepper glanced at the white tiled ceiling as she scratched out her signature with one hand while the other one shuffled some papers on her office desk. “Yes F.R.I.D.A.Y? Is something wrong?” 

“The Workaholic Protocol has been activated.” 

Pepper’s hand paused and she frowned at her paperwork. She fought the urge to sigh. Tony had been doing so good too. “How long? What project is he working on now?” 

“About three hours and twenty minutes ago. Boss is currently working on a prototype stun gun for the police force, but he’s completed thirty-six projects without a break.” 

That was slightly more alarming. Three hours of work wasn’t unheard of from Tony, he could go for days if he was really into a project. To complete that many projects in a row was slightly more unusual. Typically it was a single large project that grabbed his attention long enough to activate this program. Pepper set her pen down. “What qualified this for the Workaholic Program?” 

If it were possible to hear a frown, F.R.I.D.A.Y sounded exactly like it. “Boss hasn’t made any attempts at communication, and is ignoring all attempts being made to him. Plus, he hasn’t gotten a cup of coffee ever since Peter Parker left the building.”

Pepper’s face blanched. This was serious. Tony, ignoring coffee, that was bad. Pepper groaned and closed her eyes. He was in that zone again, the one where he spent hours upon hours on work without stopping for food or water or even the bathroom until he ran himself physically and mentally ragged and collapsed where he stood. In the past it was accompanied with a lot of drinking, though that had part had stopped in more recent years. 

Either way, alcoholic or not, it was bad for Tony and bad for the people who cared about him. The last episode had lasted a week and Pepper barely slept the entire time due to her worry for him.

Tony hadn’t had one of those episodes in years. He’d gotten close after Germany, but he hadn’t regressed, which surprised her. It had taken a little poking around, but Happy spilled easy. Tony was still in contact with the enhanced teenager he’d brought with him to the fight. The Spider-Man. Well, it was sort-of contact. Happy had direct contact with the kid— which the man complained about constantly during the discussion — while Tony hovered from behind the scenes and threw new gadgets at the kid while he discreetly fussed from a distance. 

It was adorable. Pepper never thought she would get to see this side of the great Tony Stark. It was startlingly paternal and Pepper liked it. Tony’s face had lit up after she mentioned the kid over dinner and he’d started to ramble with the ferocity that he talked about projects with. Pepper had gotten the kid’s full backstory, description of his powers, and to know all about his likes and dislikes before dessert was served. 

Spider-Man's real name was Peter, wasn’t it? Peter Parker. For all the talk, Tony hadn’t said the kid’s name a lot. He’d used more nicknames then anything. F.R.I.D.A.Y had said Peter left right before Tony relapsed. Maybe he had done or said something? 

Accidentally, of course. The boy was too sweet to cause such pain on purpose. Tony had sent her some of his favorite Baby Monitor Protocol videos the day after dinner, and she’d watched them with great mirth. The kid was about as harmless as a fly. A fly who could stop out of control trucks with his bare hands, but a harmless fly nonetheless. 

Pepper quietly stood and shoved some papers into her purse. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, cancel all my appointments for today. I’m going to Tony. Please give the clients my apologies.” 

“Yes ma’am.” she replied instantly. “Should I summon a driver for you?” 

“No thank you. I’ll drive.” 

“Your expected arrival at the Avenger’s Compound is six forty-three.” AI informed cheerfully. “See you there.” 

Pepper shouldered her purse and walked out of her office. Her heels clicked against the white tile as she walked down the hallway. None of the employees looked up, and if they did, they gave her a simple nod, recognizing the hurried pace. Pepper mentally thanked each one she passed. She had the best employees. 

____________________________________________________________________________

“Tony.”

Tony ignored the sound. It wasn’t important. Not as important as the hologram of the engine design he had started for fun a couple months ago. Lines of numbers flew over his head in rapid succession as he twisted the hologram engine in front of him. He spun it again and selected a couple features before he messed with some stats and let the testing program run. Instead of taking a couple seconds, the results sprang up immediately. The whole hologram lit up red and let out a loud beep. His hands were back on the hologram in a second.

“Tony.”

He ran the program again. This time it flashed green and a bell sound rang twice. He saved it instantly and pulled up the next project. He barely glanced at it before his hands were moving again. Starkphone. Less advanced version of the one he carried but still years ahead of what any other rival company could come out with. He was pretty sure that they were saving this one for five years down the line. Didn’t matter. It was work. It was a distraction, therefore it required his attention.

The details were the same as his phone, just light projected onto a glass screen instead of the holograms that Tony used. The problem was that the glass was too fragile for daily use. To set the phone down with even a fraction of power caused the glass to shatter. Too dangerous, especially with ki- people who weren’t careful with their stuff. A phone that shattered every time it was set down didn’t look good for the company. At this point plastic might be a better alternative because it could handle pressure and it was less expensive- 

“TONY!”

Tony jerked as the annoying sound suddenly jerked through his subconscious and very clearly turned into the exasperated voice of his fiancee. The hologram of the phone spun out of his hands as he jumped around and was greeted with the sight of Pepper. She was still in her work clothes, pencil skirt with a matching blouse and heels. 

He blinked to get rid of the numbers and schematics that floated around her head. What was she doing here? She should still be up at the Stark Industries Manhattan Headquarters. Did he miss a meeting?

If Pepper dragged herself all the way to the Compound, then it must be important. She wouldn’t bug him if it wasn’t. Best to not act like the complete mess he was and worry her more. Tony forced his body to relax. He leaned against a table and pulled on his best media-fake smile. “Hey Pep. What’s up?” 

Pepper’s eyes ran over his body, and Tony was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he looked like a mess who was trying to cover up the fact. Crumpled clothes, messy hair, bloodshot eyes, the whole deal. He fought the urge to rub the center of his chest as his stress started to bubble up the longer she stared.

“Did you need something Pepper?” He tried again. Something in her face crumbled. “You wouldn’t come all the way up here in the middle of a work day unless you-”

“Are you okay?” She cut him off.

Tony’s teeth clicked as he slammed his mouth shut. “What? No, I feel fine. What do you mean? I’m just getting a head start on all these projects I’ve put off.”

His anxiety returned and he snatched the phone hologram out of the air and turned his back to her. Tony twisted it around a couple times. She knew something bothered him. Pepper wouldn’t be here if else. If he played it off as something small, then she would back off for a bit, and he could dive back into his work and forget about the real world for a little bit longer. 

That five second distraction was too long. He could feel the self-loathing start to ooze in again. The anxiety deepened into fear and self-disgust, because what type of person did that to their kid- “I felt like I’ve been putting SI on the back burner for too long so I decided to finish a bunch of stuff so the board can get off our butts about product design. It’s nothing.”

Pepper sighed, a soft sound that was all too familiar. “Tony, it isn’t nothing. You’ve been down here for hours, honey. You activated the Workaholic Program. There is something bugging you.” 

Crap. He’d forgotten about that program. Snitch. “I’ve told you, nothing is wrong. I just wanted to finish some projects.” 

There was thunk as Pepper dropped her purse on the table and walked closer. Warm hands wrapped around his waist as her head dropped onto his shoulder. Tony leaned into her despite his hesitance. 

Pepper gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “If it’s nothing, then why won’t you look at me?” 

Tony didn’t answer.

She sighed again. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, save and shut down the hologram.” 

The hologram flashes in acknowledgement and blinked out of existence. Tony slumped as the phone vanished mid-spin. He sighed and scrubbed at his eyes with both hands, taking comfort in her touch. “I messed up.” 

“I assumed that you would think so. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“No, Pep, that’s the problem.” Tony leaned on the desk, regret and dread rolling through his stomach. “It was that bad.” 

Pepper was silent for a while, processing in that sly way of her’s. Her arms tightened a second before she asked. “Does it have to do with Peter Parker?” 

He knew she would get it. She always did. “It has everything to do with him.” 

“Oh Tony.” The sigh was tired, but lacked the judgmental aspect that he hated. She pressed her body against him completely and rested her head on his shoulder. Her thumbs started to rub calming circles. “I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” 

“This is a little farther then simple forgiveness, Pep. More like earth shattering news with consequences that can’t be fixed with just an ‘I’m sorry’. Peter-” his voice choked at the name. He grabbed one of Pepper’s arms. “Peter was in a very vulnerable state and I just smashed it like it was nothing, like he was nothing.” 

Tony went limp and dropped his chin to his chest. “I’m a terrible person.” 

The circling thumbs continued. Pepper kissed his cheek again, longer this time, before she started to hum a little melody into his ear. What did he do to deserve someone as fantastic as Pepper? She was absolutely perfect. 

She kept it up for a couple minutes until Tony relaxed enough to lean back into her touch and grab both her hands. She let him soak in her comfort for a bit. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” 

Tony sighed. All the dark feelings rushed back, but they were muted, driven back by the wonderful shield known as his fiancee. “I ran a DNA test on Peter to see how messed up it was from the spider bite that gave him his powers. It was out of simple curiosity, I didn’t think anything would come out of it. I had F.R.I.D.A.Y run it through the system so I could put his biometrics in as a surprise for the next time I brought him up, and she found that his DNA ... matched mine. Parental wise.” There was a sharp intake of breath, but Tony powered on. “I think we both went into shock. Peter’s face went all pale and he gave me the most heart wrenching look, it was like looking at a puppy Pep, he was so sad it broke my heart, and, and I just kicked him out of the lab. Pushed him out like a butthole who doesn’t care.” 

Pepper’s grip tightened as Tony went silent. She let out another breath and pressed her cheek against his. She didn’t ask about his reaction, sensing that he really didn’t want to unpack that right now and went for a different question instead. “When do you think-?” 

Tony sighed. “His birthday is August 10th, 2001. So probably around a Christmas party the year before. Or January if he was one of those early-comers.” 

Pepper smiled at that. He could tell by the way her lips scrape on his cheek and her amused voice filtered into his ear. “Of course you would have his birth date memorized.” 

He scoffed, theatrically offended. She hummed in return. They stayed like that for several more minutes before Tony shifted his head to stare at her. “You’re not mad?”

“No.” Pepper kissed him again. “Not at the fact you have a kid. We both knew this was a possibility. The way you handled it wasn’t the best, but I know you. I know that you were shocked and not thinking straight. You didn’t mean to hurt Peter’s feelings. And I know for a fact that Peter is going to forgive you, you just need to give him some time.”

Tony faltered at that. “I don’t know Pepper. You didn’t see the look he gave me. He was crushed. It was like-”

“If he’s anything like you, then I know he will. Just like how I know you are going to mope for a time, then get on your feet and fix this.” 

“It’s not an easy fix.”

“I know. But that’s what you do Tony. You fix things.” 

“People are very different from machines. They’re a lot more complicated to figure out and that’s not even including the extra parts thrown in there.” Peter’s faced flashed through his mind and Tony wilted a bit more. Extra parts was an easy way to explain the circumstances of their relationship. 

Pepper huffed. “What can I say? You like a challenge. Your best work always comes from beating them.” 

He wrapped his arms around her’s, and briefly marveled at how perfect they felt there. He didn’t deserve her sometimes. Tony twisted his head and kissed her cheek. “I don’t deserve you, Miss Potts. I really don’t.” 

She laughed. “Just keep thinking that and maybe one day you’ll stop believing it. Now,” she pulled one hand out of his grasp and wrapped it around his chest. “what are you going to do about Peter? Am I ever going to meet my future son?” 

“Sure. You can meet him tomorrow if you want.” Tony joked. “I’ll just make sure to stay far away in case he doesn’t want to see me again because I emotionally crushed him into bits and he probably hates me. On a completely unrelated note, are there any flights to China available?” 

“I’m taking that offer completely serious, by the way. I’ll have Happy pick him up right after school.” Pepper patted his face and gave him a cheeky smile. 

“Great.” Tony grumbled. 

She ran into Happy at the top of the stairs. She put down her phone when she saw him, halfway through constructing a text for the man. “Hello Happy. How was the drive?” 

“Good.” He grunted reflexively. Happy squinted down the stairs towards Tony’s lab. “Hey, do you know what happened between Tony and that Peter Parker kid he’s always with? The kid was all pale and basically catatonic the whole drive back.” 

“Yeah, I was just talking to Tony about it.” Pepper glanced around. This section of the Compound was strictly for the Avengers but people did occasionally wander through, and Tony wouldn’t want the news to spread to any unwanted ears. Just to be safe, she lowered her voice and leaned in close. Happy copied her actions despite his obvious confusion. “Tony was doing some DNA work with Peter and they found out they were related. Neither of them took it very well.” 

Happy’s face blanched. “Oh.” 

Pepper sighed and leaned back. “Peter must have been shock. I know Tony was.” 

“... That makes a lot of sense.” Happy commented, half to himself. “The kid never shuts up, and he looked so frazzled that I was actually worried. Tried to get him to spill but I don’t think the kid even heard me.” 

“Like father like son.” Pepper chuckled dryly. “Anyways, do you mind picking Peter up tomorrow after school again? I want to meet him and hopefully hash out a few misconceptions before either of them take it off into the deep end and do something unnecessarily dramatic.” 

“I can get the kid no problem. Where do you want me to drop him off?”

“Let’s go somewhere more neutral.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol. In case you are wondering, that whole part where Tony imagines his fictional child was totally aimed at early Tony-has-a-child stories. When I started writing this story forever ago right after Civil War came out, all the stories where Tony had a kid were pretty much exactly the same. They were all Mary Sue OC's with bad names, living happily in Avengers Tower with Loki, chilling out with the gang playing video games all day long where Ceiling Vent Clint and Dumb Loud Blond Pop-tart Addict Thor ruled supreme. That whole fantasy part I wrote basically described every one of those stories. So in case you do remember those times and were wondering about the similarities, yes, that was on purpose. ;)


	3. How Peter Takes It

“It appears that Peter happens to share forty-nine percent of your DNA.” F.R.I.D.A.Y stated. 

Coffee exploded from Mr. Stark’s mouth. Peter’s jaw dropped as his mentor slammed his mug on the console and started to choke. 

Wait. _What?!_ His mind reeled, surprise thrummed through his body even as it froze with his gaze locked on Mr. Stark. What did F.R.I.D.A.Y just say? Forty-nine percent DNA share? That was impossible. They would mean they were related somehow. Was this like one of those movie things were the character discover they are related to each other? Just like in _Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull_ when Indy discovered that annoying kid was actually his son? Or in _Star Wars_ when Luke discovers that Darth Vader is actually his dad?

No, that’s not possible. That was the movies, the cinema. Drama for the viewers. The stuff that happened there didn’t happen in real life.

But then, why did F.R.I.D.A.Y say that? 

Was it like a clone thing then? No, that was still too fantastical to be true. It would be an honor to be a clone of Mr. Stark, but there is no way that was possible. Cloning hasn’t advanced past the animal testing stage yet and even then the DNA would be a hundred percent match, not forty-nine. Plus, Peter didn’t look like Mr. Stark. Clones always looked exactly the same as the original, which was why they were called clones. 

… and there was no way someone like him could amount to someone like Mr. Stark. 

“The DNA is too different to be a clone.” F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke, like she read his mind. Her voice was muffled for some reason, like she was trying to speak underwater. “It appears to be the kind of transfer that happens between a parent and offspring.” 

Peter’s brain exploded. 

His following memories are fuzzy. There’s something about being pushed out of the lab and climbing some stairs somewhere. Maybe he stared at Mr. Stark through the glass door. Maybe? He’s not sure. He’s pretty sure Happy tried to talk to him during the car ride, but it didn’t filter into his brain so he just stared at the floor. His scuffed up converse shoes looked slightly out of place in the fancy car, he can remember thinking that. Then he’s magically at his apartment door seven levels up, fumbling for the key.

May isn’t home. She’s at work, trying to cram in more hours before its not possible anymore. 

The next memory that’s clear is when he climbed into his bed and curled into a tiny ball. He smashed his face into his pillow to block out the light from the window. Everything is numb. His emotions, face, body, mind. Even his eyes. So he closed them. He doesn’t want to think or move or feel anymore. So he fell asleep instead. 

Coming back to consciousness sucked. It really did. Everything from the day rushed back without any of the fuzzy, and Peter really just wanted to flop over and die to avoid it all. But his stupid stomach wouldn’t stop growling and making him feel queasy. Cursed metabolism. When was the last time he ate? It had to be during lunch and that was- What time was it? 

His stomach rumbled at him again. Peter groaned but pushed himself up, limbs tingling. Well, if his arms and legs were stiff that meant he’d been there for a long time. Guess that was good to know. He fumbled for his alarm clock, which cheerily displayed that it was six thirty in the evening. That left him with two hours before May got back and seven hours since he last ate. No wonder his stomach was killing him. Normally he could only go about two before he needed a snack. 

Peter sighed and forced himself to stand. He shuffled out of his room and into the kitchen. The apartment was quiet, though he could hear the Daytons from apartment five-eighteen arguing again. Bare feet scuffled on the carpet, and Peter wrinkled his nose at the feel. Why did he take his socks off in his previous haze? He hated feel of their cheap carpet. Before the bite it didn’t bother him, but with his super enhanced senses it drove him insane. It was the reason he never went around the apartment barefoot anymore, even if the carpet just covered the living area and his room. 

He tugged open the fridge and stared. Walnut date loaf, very old left-over Chinese, and a random block of cheese stared back. Yeah no. Not feeling like dying by food today. Any way else, then yes, especially after this afternoon, but food poisoning sounded like a pathetic way to go. 

He shut the fridge door and aimed for the pantry. Halfway to it, a hint of something delicious hit his nose, and Peter detoured to the kitchen counter instead. 

Resting on the counter on a plate was an entire loaf of zucchini bread. Peter salivated at the sight of it. Out of all his aunt’s crazy food concoctions, this one was definitely the best. This one was more than edible, it was addictive. Peter could never get enough of her zucchini bread. It really said something about her cooking that the best one wasn’t even her invention. 

He took another sniff and, oh yeah, there were walnuts in it. Even better. He picked up the entire loaf and started to gnaw on it because it was one of those days, and he was sure May wouldn’t mind if he ate the entire thing. She didn’t eat a whole lot these days. 

No longer occupied by the search for food, the primitive side of his brain retreated and let the other thoughts he’d purposely been trying to hold back rushed into the forefront of his mind. Peter frowned, his slightly-elevated and now back to highly depressed mood squashed even more. He took another bite out of the bread. 

Forty-nine percent DNA similarity with the signs pointing to it being a parent-offspring relationship. It probably wasn’t an equal fifty because of the spider DNA, but that was still a daunting number. In any other circumstance, those words would mean nothing. Some equation to solve in school. Someone else’s problem to deal with. A sob story or an extra bit of drama for one of those cheap low-budget dramas.

Pretty much worthless, except, in this case, those words were aimed at him. 

Which is shocking enough. Peter had never thought that Richard Parker wasn’t his dad. It never occurred to him. There was no reason to. Richard Parker had just always been Dad. It was a fact of life, like how the sky was blue or that fish could swim. He’d been told that his fath- Richard had been his dad, so that’s what he believed. He really had no reason to doubt it either. 

May and Ben said nothing about his parents arguing and going off on their own for a short time. No summer flings or secret partners or anything. Granted, that wasn't something you’d typically tell a four year old kid about his newly dead parents, or even in the years afterwards, but it should have been mentioned in some shape or form. 

The only thing close he can think of was when May mentioned that his parents got pregnant really fast after their marriage. Which, now that he thinks about it, could be suspicious. Maybe his mom had one last fling or something before the wedding and he was the result. He didn’t know. Peter barely knew anything about his parents. 

Which also brought up the question if his parents even knew. Or, if his mom and step-dad knew. Peter wasn’t an expert on ‘how-to-tell-if-a-baby-is-yours’ subject on any length, but there had to be at least a fifty-fifty chance that both or one of his parents knew. The other option was that neither of them knew. 

His mom probably had a greater sense of the truth in this scenario, unless she had switched between the two men too fast to be able to tell. Which, frankly was an odd slash almost queasy image for some reason. Didn’t she check or something? Could you check? If they didn’t, it either meant that there wasn’t any doubt of his parentage in their minds, or Richard Parker didn’t care that they didn’t share DNA. 

The really shocking part of this whole thing— not to downplay the surprise of finding out your dad actually isn’t your dad or anything, because that was actually pretty earth shattering in and of itself —was that the forty-nine percent he shared with Tony Stark. The Tony Stark of all people. The coolest, most brilliant guy around. Weapons developer turned superhero who helped form a global superhero fighting force that saved the world several times. He created the Iron-Man armor, revolutionized clean energy, pumped out designs for machinery that sped up the progression of science, made thousands of household products. 

Like, there was always the chance that the DNA test was messed up. That his spider DNA funked up the system. But Mr. Stark’s technology was too good to stumble over something like that. Especially if it was accounted for when Mr. Stark was setting up the program, which was pretty likely. 

Peter Parker was nowhere close to even being in the same league as that man. Peter dealt with local crime around Queens, one city out of all of New York while Mr. Stark took care of the entire world. 

Mr. Stark made millions of dollars in one day. Peter Parker could barely afford a sandwich. 

Tony Stark was suave and charming. Peter Parker could barely stutter his way through a conversation with a girl. 

Tony Stark was famous and loved by millions. Peter Parker had two people he dared to call friends. 

Tony Stark created technology that changed the world. Peter Parker dove for parts from dumpsters for silly little gizmos that hardly worked half the time. 

Tony Stark was a very big somebody to the world. Peter Parker was very much a nobody. 

They both knew it. Which was probably why Mr. Stark kicked him out. Couldn’t afford to have some nobody be seen with him, much less be related. 

Peter slumped on against the counter. Shoot. There went any chances of a good day. Not even walnut zucchini bread could bring him up now. Now he was depressed and anxious, self esteem hit rock bottom and drilling its way deeper somehow. 

Ugh. His life really sucked sometimes. First there was all the stuff with May and now this. Peter took a deep breath, his arm not occupied by food wrapped around himself almost unconsciously. 

Mr. Stark- wait, should he call him Mr. Stark? If they were father-son, then the correct term would be dad, but that was way too close. Besides, Mr. Stark wouldn’t like Peter to call him that. He obviously didn’t want to be reminded of their relation. He made that clear after he kicked Peter out of the lab with a “I need to figure this out”. 

Was being kicked out of the lab just the start? Was Mr. Stark going to pull out of everything else too? All the lab visits? All the phone calls and text messages? Was he going to delete his and Happy’s numbers from Peter’s phone? Tell him to never call again or mention that they even knew each other? Was he going to get rid of that savings account Mr. Stark had mentioned? The college tuition he’d not so subtly pointed out was covered? Was he going to take away the suit? As

Oh crap. Mr. Stark wasn’t going to take the suit again, wasn’t he?

Peter would survive without it. But it felt too final. He could handle the other stuff being taken, he and May could get along like they had been before for as long as possible and it wouldn’t be too hard, but taking the suit would make it too real. Decisive. Permanent. Like the big slap from cold hard reality that Peter really didn’t need. Seriously. He really, really didn’t need that on top of literally everything else. 

He took another giant bite of bread and focused on the crunch of the walnuts instead of his spiraling thoughts. 

By the time May got back home, Peter had finished off the entire loaf of bread, done the dishes, taken out the trash, vacuumed the cheap carpet; and had started boiling two pots of water, one for macaroni and cheese, and the other for hot dogs to cut up and stick in the mac and cheese. Not the healthiest meal, but one of the few Peter could make safely. 

He had also, almost successfully, not completely drowned under this new additional sorrow in his crazy life. Peter was really banking on May being too tired to notice that he was a little pale and quiet. If she noticed, she’d lock on to his distress and go at it with the tenacity of a pitbull until she found out what was bugging him, and Peter really didn’t want to talk about it right now. 

For once, Peter’s infamous luck was on his side. 

The doorknob to the front door jiggled as May let out a soft exclamation from the other side. It wiggled again, and twisted open. May walked in, purse in one hand, and the other going up to her face to cover a yawn. She paused when she caught sight of Peter standing in the kitchen.

She dropped her hand and smiled at him. “You’re home early. I thought you were doing your rounds today.” 

Rounds, their code word for Peter’s patrolling.

Peter stumbled for a lie and went for something that was a half-truth instead. “I was, but then I remembered you were taking a sixteen hour shift today and I felt like you deserved something nice, so I decided to cut it short and make you some dinner.” 

She walked to his side and stared at the pots on the stove. She took one of the wooden spoons and stirred the noodles. “Mac and cheese with hot dogs? Classic meal. Thank you, Peter. I was feeling too tired to cook and going to order some take out, but this is a way better option.” 

Up close, it was easy to see exactly how tired May was, even for average eyesight. Pale skin, dark purple bags under her eyes, tired expression, the usual signs. Peter’s enhanced eyes caught a little bit more. It caught the chalky tone to her skin, the veins that were slightly starting to stick out a little more each day, greasy hair that was starting to crack and split unhealthily, the faint tremble of her hands as she stirred the pot. 

Sixteen hour shifts were tough on any nurse, but on May, they were especially brutal. If they wouldn’t need the money so desperately in the future, then Peter would be begging her to take a couple days off. Maybe he would even ask Mr. Stark if they could borrow some money. But that money was essential, and Mr. Stark wanted nothing to do with Peter, so he didn’t say a word as May bent over and pretended to lean on the stove to check on the noodles, when they both knew that she was exhausted beyond belief and needed just that tiny bit of relief she was willing to show. 

May gave the noodles another stir, then glanced around the kitchen. Her eyes landed on the empty counter and she smiled. “I see you ate the entire loaf of zucchini bread, Mr. Greedy. How was it?” 

“Delicious, of course.” Peter fake-scoffed. “You know your zucchini bread is always delicious, especially with walnuts.” 

“Good. I made it especially for you.” She tapped the tip of his nose. “I’m glad to see my hard work was appreciated.” 

Peter chuckled, a weird feeling in his stomach. “I always appreciate everything you do May.” 

“I don’t know about that. You didn’t like that cake I made for your twelfth birthday.” 

“Because it had Dora on it. No twelve year old boy likes Dora the Explorer, May.” Peter grinned even as he complained. 

May threw up her hands and grinned just as brightly. “It was the last cake in the store! Would you rather that I came back with no cake at all?” 

“Yes!”

The old argument brought a happy feeling that they both desperately needed. It was a warm feeling that wrapped them up with memories and love, that let the harsh edges of reality blur until they were in their own little world, satisfied with each other and nothing else. 

It lasted through dinner and Peter doing the dishes once again while May sat on the couch and picked a show for them to watch as the light from the windows disappeared. It lasted through the first three episodes of F.R.I.E.N.D.S, and more than halfway into the fourth. It lasted until May fell asleep, head cradled on the couch arm rest, and Peter was left awake, alone with his thoughts and the sound of talking and laugh tracks. 

Peter let his head thunk on the arm rest and, now that he was alone in the dark, finally let himself be swallowed by the pit of despair.


	4. Big P Meets the Little P

The next day Peter had school. So he got up quietly and prepared for the day without making much noise. May had the day off— finally, she needed it so bad —so he wrapped a blanket around her, kissed her forehead, and left without turning on any lights. 

Today was definitely a Spider-man day, so he stuffed his suit into the bottom of his backpack and wrote May a note about his after-school plans before he left. 

The day went by with aggravating slowness. Time dragged on and on, moving the speed of a snail that had taken a relaxant and decided to go for a slow walk. Every second ached as it passed, and Peter was unbelievably glad that Spanish was his last class of the day. He just had to get through this and Decathlon, and then he was free to work out some of his emotional issues by helping the people of Queens. 

Ned really hadn’t helped with his anxiety either. Peter regretted telling Ned that he was going up to the Compound before he left yesterday, because now all Ned would ask about was questions about the Compound and Avengers and Iron-man in the same rapid-fire randomness that happened when Ned first discovered Peter’s powers. 

It was honestly driving Peter insane. Normally he could handle questions, but today every single one of them seem to rub him wrong. Even the innocent ones like Ned’s exuberant query about the Compound toilet paper during Physics made Peter want to scream and crawl out of the room. Thankfully he didn’t have Spanish with Ned, a short little respite he was grateful for. Decathlon was going to be a nightmare. 

Peter almost jumped when his phone vibrated in his pocket and he carefully slid it out and gave it a questioning glance. Didn’t he put it on silent this morning? He usually did. Maybe it turned back on again. Wouldn’t be the first thing his old iPhone had messed with. The moment Ms. Bibiana turned her back to the class, he touched the screen to wake the phone and see what notification had disturbed him. 

It was a text from an unknown number. An awfully familiar unknown number. One that he hadn’t saved due to the person’s paranoia over his number getting out even though the person’s boss, who was even more famous and had a bigger reason to be paranoid, was saved as _Mr. Stark_ in Peter’s contacts. The person insisted on anonymity though. 

Peter was hit was a sense of deja vu as he stared at the familiar message. 

_“Meet me in the bathroom after school. Same one.”_

He raised an eyebrow in confusion and tapped the cracked screen thoughtlessly. Happy wanted to meet him in the bathroom again? Why? Was there something they needed to talk about like-

Oh crap, oh crap. This was about the whole ‘being-related’ thing, wasn’t it? Happy was probably here to tell him all the stuff that Mr. Stark couldn’t say to his face because he was too nice and Happy was a convenient bad guy and was less likely to get hurt because he was just the messenger and not the sender and therefore not at fault for this whole thing. Peter couldn’t get angry at Happy. It wasn’t his fault that any of this happened. Mr. Stark probably knew that and that was why he sent Happy to deliver the bad news instead of doing it face-to-face because he thought there was a possibility, no matter how small, that Peter might lose his mind and attack or something and Mr. Stark didn’t want to take that risk. There was no way Peter could ever do that because Mr. Stark was way too important of a man to punch in the face, the whole ‘I am your father’ deal aside. The fact that Mr. Stark even thought that just proved how little Mr. Stark really cared to get to know him, and now that was about to be blatantly obvious because Peter was about to lose the suit and-

“Mr. Parker.” 

Peter’s head shot up, grasping at the distraction like a drowning man grabs at a life jacket to pull him from the rising waves of panic. Ms. Baniana stared at him, arms crossed and disapproval obvious in her eyes. In unison, the rest of the class all shifted to face him. Embarrassed, but grateful for the distraction, Peter sunk into his seat. 

“Yes ma’am?” 

She raised an eyebrow and motioned at his phone. “Whoever your texting can wait until after school, can’t they?” 

Snickers erupted all around. Peter shrunk a bit deeper into his seat. Ouch, caught. 

“I was just, uh, checking to see who it was. Wrong number.” he lied feebly, mostly for appearances sake. Everyone knew that was a lie, even if they couldn’t prove it. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and shuffled to papers on his desk. He raised his pencil in prime note-taking position and faced his teacher. 

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but gave him a pointed look and turned back to the whiteboard nonetheless. “When using the _tu_ form of _divertido_ , you have to remember it is an oddball word, and that means the spelling changes.” 

\--- 

Peter peered around the bathroom entrance and one hand anxiously gripped the wall. He felt stupid for being nervous to walk into a bathroom. It was just a bathroom. There was nothing wrong with bathrooms. They had toilets, sinks, and mirrors, and this one was no different from all the other ones. 

He usually was a little nervous to enter a school bathroom due to the amount of germs that had to be crawling around, but this time he was way more anxious about who was waiting for him in said bathroom.

Yep. There he was. An hour and a half after school had ended and Happy was still waiting. 

He leaned heavily against one of the stall doors. The man stared blankly at his reflection in the sink mirror, his head tilted back against the stall and eyes at half mast while somehow still looking tense enough to punch a guy in the face without hesitation. His clothes were all wrinkled and he looked in desperate need of a nap. 

Yeah. Happy looked like he wasn’t having a good time. He looked like he was about to deliver some bad news. 

A little wave of terror rolled through Peter, and his grip on the brick wall tightened reflexively. Something crunched under his fingers. Peter pulled his hand off the wall with a small hiss of surprise and wiped it on his pants to get rid of the brick he’d crumpled under his super strength and glanced at the damage. Well, hopefully no one looks too closely at the cracked brick and wondered how it happened. 

He closed his eyes and took a small breath. Come on, he could do this. Just get in there and get it over with. In and out. It was just like with a band-aid. Rip it off as fast as possible for more intense but less lingering pain. Peter took another breath, wrapped a hand on the single backpack strap that hung on his shoulder, and shuffled into the bathroom. 

It took Happy exactly five seconds to notice Peter after he awkwardly stepped into view. Once he did, something flashed over the man’s face but disappeared before Peter could decipher what it was. Happy stepped away from the stall and jerkily straightened his clothes with a huff. He gave Peter a familiar glare of annoyance. 

It would have been almost heartwarming if Peter hadn’t been so terrified. 

“Jeez kid, what took you so long? I’m not a personal driver that you can make wait, you know.” Happy grumbled as he pulled on the suit’s sleeves a little harder than necessary. He crossed his arms and stared down at Peter. “Follow me and get in the car. Someone wants to talk to you.” 

Peter’s throat went dry. It was worse than he thought. Mr. Stark was going to do this personally. He knew that Peter wouldn’t dare get angry at him enough to attack or really fight back, which meant he really did know Peter and still decided he wanted nothing to do with him. 

If it were possible, Peter would have gladly shrunk down to a couple inches tall like the shrinking-growing dude from the airport fight and escape from this situation. 

“Who?” he managed to croak. “Mr. Stark?” 

Happy’s face scrunched in confusion. Something flickered behind his eyes, his face relaxed, and he let out a long sigh. “No. Someone else.” 

“Oh.” Guess that means Mr. Stark really didn’t care enough to do this personally then. 

Peter meekly followed the SI Head of Security out of the bathroom, through the empty school halls, down the front stairs outside, onto the parking lot, and to the waiting silver Audi car. He vaguely noted it was the same car that Happy took him to the Compound for the Avengers offer test. It could drive itself. That was cool. 

He reached for the door handle to the backseat, but Happy swatted his hand aside and popped open the car door himself. Peter’s jaw dropped and he stared at Happy in shock as the older man scanned their surrounds. Holy crap. Happy opened the door for him!? Happy was being nice!? Did that mean he felt bad for whatever was coming next? Oh gosh, was Peter in that much trouble? 

Happy’s gaze crossed over Peter and made eye contact. The man scowled at him and motioned with the car door. “Hey! We don’t have all day. Close your mouth and get in the car.” 

Peter snapped his jaw shut and carefully sat in the seat, consciously making an effort to touch as little of the leather as possible. If he was going to be kicked out, then it was best to not infect anything with his germs. 

He slid his backpack off and put it on his lap instead of the floor as usual. His arms unconsciously wrapped around the backpack and he pulled it into his chest, slightly more comforted by the closeness of the suit and web shooters. Virtue of habit, Peter reached up and buckled himself in. 

He ducked his head instinctively when Happy slammed the door shut behind him. Holy crap, his nerves were on edge! Everything was setting off his fight or flight instinct. Happy crossed around the back of the car and slid into the driver’s seat with a small grunt. He fumbled up there for a second, then without saying another word, the car started to life under their feet and Happy pulled out of the parking lot. 

The drive was dead silent. Any drive with Happy was usually quiet, but this ride just seemed even worse. Even the cars that roared beside them on the highway wasn’t nearly as loud as before. Peter normally chatted away until Happy rolled up the divider to block him out. That didn’t happen this drive. Peter didn’t speak a word and Happy didn’t touch the divider button at all. It was weird. 

Nervous, Peter drummed his fingers against his leg. Even that sounded too loud for the tension in the car, so he forced himself to stop. He kept his gaze on the window, watching the scenery fly by and tightened his hold on his backpack. The textbooks shifted inside the pack with his grip and he heard some paper wrinkle as a result. Hopefully those weren’t anything important. 

His fingers picked up their drumming again. This time, he didn’t bother trying to stop them.

Happy let out a hoarse cough and shifted in his seat. The man glanced into the rear-view mirror, then away, like he wasn’t sure if he should make eye contact or not.

A mile down the road, someone honked their horn. 

This was going to be a long drive.

\---

About an hour into the trip, Happy switched lanes and pulled into a off-ramp. Which wasn’t unusual per-say. The part that was unusual was that it wasn’t the ramp to the Avengers Compound. This one should take them into the city, not upstate to the more rural area. 

Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Did Happy did take the wrong exit? Should he say something? 

Because really, the best place to take his suit from him would be the Compound. It was out of the way of civilians and there were no easy escape routes for web slinging, there would be more protection for Mr. Stark, and there were a lot of eyes to watch Peter in case he went crazy. Doing this in the city made no sense. 

“Hey-hey Happy? Why are we going to the city?” Peter asked hesitantly. He stared at his backpack, but glanced up in time to see Happy stare at him through the mirror. 

The man was quiet for a second. “That’s where the person you’re meeting is.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Peter put his head back down and messed with the seat belt. “Sorry, sorry to bug you. I just, I was curious about where we’re going.” 

The car was quiet for a couple seconds longer. The question slipped through his lips before Peter realized it. 

“Is Mr. Stark going to be there?” 

Something inside Happy released. His shoulders slumped and he slouched in the driver’s seat. Through the mirror, Happy’s face looked forlorn. Then he straightened, and his face went blank and he gave a small sigh. “No, Tony isn’t going to be there.” 

There was some part of Peter that was relieved. Mr. Stark wasn’t going to be there to take the suit personally. That extra stab of pain wouldn’t be there, that disappointed look that told Peter not only was he not good enough to be a superhero, he wasn’t good enough to be his son. 

Yet at the same time it hurt. It just proved Mr. Stark didn’t know Peter enough to know Peter wouldn’t hurt him for taking the suit, which meant all the time they spent together meant nothing. All the lab meetings, the text messages, the promises made, it all meant nothing. 

And that hurt more than any physical wound Peter had ever received.

“Oh.” he said. 

Happy gave him another glance, unable to hide the concern in his features.

Instead of replying, Peter dropped his face into his backpack and closed his eyes. 

Peter slid his single backpack strap on instinctively as he glanced around the underground parking with mild interest. Happy had driven them to Upper East Manhattan and to a building with a familiar label that both made Peter excited and filled him with dread in equal amounts. Mr. Stark never took Peter to the new Stark Industries Manhattan Headquarters, so this was entirely new territory. 

It was a skyscraper, similar to the Avengers Tower, though solely focused on the Stark Industries side of Mr. Stark’s work. Just like the Tower, this one had a lot of glass on the outside, reflecting the skyline with ease. It was heavily fortified— Happy had to go through several security checks to even park in the private underground garage —and the building screamed high tech from the outside, though Peter doubted it was nowhere near as advanced as the Compound. 

Happy slammed the car door shut and did another visual scan of the practically empty garage as Peter awkwardly shuffled his feet on the cement. Happy grabbed Peter’s shoulder and dragged him across the garage. 

They passed a grand total of two cars, and Happy eyed each of them suspiciously as they walked. He pulled Peter to the elevator at the other end of the room, which opened with a small _ding_. The inside of the elevator was nice, pure white with silver panels and two silver buttons to match. 

Peter tried to shuffle to the back of the elevator but Happy pulled him back to his side.

“Greetings, Mr. Hogan and Mr. Parker.” A friendly female voice called out from the speakers. “Where are you gentleman heading today?” 

Peter jerked his head to look at the ceiling in surprise at the completely new voice as Happy answered. “Just to the fifty-eighth floor, J.O.C.A.S.T.A. Thank you.” 

“It’s my pleasure. As per previous instruction, I’ve made this elevator private so no other individuals can get on.” The elevator rumbled and started to go up.

Peter shifted on his feet for a second. He glanced at Happy, then the ceiling, to his shoes, then back to the ceiling. Would it be too much for him to ask about this new AI? Happy already had to drag him all this way, Peter wouldn’t want to intrude further. His curiosity burned at him though. 

Peter bit the bullet and asked. “Is… is F.R.I.D.A.Y not installed into this building?” 

Happy snorted. “No. Tony decided that having her run all the Avengers stuff, his stuff, and all of SI’s stuff would be too much, even for her. She’s connected to the building, but only answers to select few individuals like Pepper and Tony and me. For anything that has to do with Stark Industries, J.O.C.A.S.T.A is the one that you’ll be talking too.” 

“Oh.” Peter looked at the elevator ceiling and waved. “Hi, J.O.C.A.S.T.A. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Peter.” 

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Peter. I hope you have an excellent stay at the Stark Industries Manhattan Headquarters.” The warm, French accented voice spoke fondly back. The numbers above the door ticked on steadily. 

“I doubt that.” Peter quietly muttered under his breath. 

Happy’s grip on his shoulder tightened for a split second before it relaxed again. 

“Thank you J.O.C.A.S.T.A. I appreciate it.” Peter added, louder. Happy’s hand seemed heavier on his shoulder then it did thirty seconds ago. To throw off any possible questions that could come from his statement, Peter asked another question. “So what does your name stand for?”

“J.O.C.A.S.T.A stands for ‘Just One Cute And Sexy Technical Assistant’. I was created by Tony Stark in 2012, but wasn’t installed into this building until late 2015. I’ve been in operation for one year.”

“Wow. That’s a long time.” Peter wiggled his shoulder pointedly. Happy didn’t take the hint and kept his hand attached. “You must be super busy all the time.” 

“Not really. I only have to run Stark Industries business. I bet my sister system, F.R.I.D.A.Y, is twice as busy as me.” 

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t amazing.” Peter pointed out. “SI business is still important. They help people all over the world and I bet they couldn’t do any of it without you.” 

Fractionally, just small enough to catch it, the lights in the elevator brightened and the temperature inched up a degree. 

J.O.C.A.S.T.A’s voice was softer. “Thank you Peter. I appreciate the compliment.” 

Happy snorted and shook his head. He couldn’t hide the hint of a smile on his face.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows at him, but smiled shyly at the ceiling. “No problem.” 

The elevator slowed to a halt. After a couple seconds, the doors dinged and pulled back. “Welcome to floor fifty-eight. If you ever need me, then just say my name and I’ll answer. Please enjoy your stay, Peter and Mr. Hogan.” 

“Thank you.” Peter said before Happy hauled him out of the elevator. 

The fifty-eighth level was surprisingly plain. A seemingly endless hallway with a few potted plants and pictures on the white columns of the walls. The rest of the walls were mostly glass that offered a peek into the offices. Each office had a nameplate with a fancy title underneath the name like ‘Supervisor of Internal Affairs’ or such.

Peter tried not to stare as Happy dragged him past, but it was hard to keep his curiosity in check. 

Few people looked up as they passed and the ones that did always stared back in surprise. A man that was heading the opposite direction in the hallway glanced Peter up and down, a frown on his face, before his glance flitted to Happy and he looked away. Even without words, Peter suddenly felt self-conscious of his graphic t-shirt with the large jacket thrown on top, jeans and a backpack compared to everyone else’s suit or skirt. He pulled his jacket around him tighter in response. 

There was another example of Peter not being fit for the world of Tony Stark. Didn’t have the right clothes. 

Happy took him to the very end of the hallway and turned right. A large glass door greeted them, but it was fogged so that it was impossible to see inside. The entire wall was solid metal, at least a couple inches thick. Two cameras guarded the door and at least four more poked out from the walls behind them. 

With all that protection, whoever had this office was obviously more important than the rest of the employees. Peter’s spidey senses tingled from the observation he was placed under by simply being by this door. Did that mean Mr. Stark did know Peter enough to put an authority figure in supposed harm's way and still didn’t bother to show up personally? 

Peter’s nerves doubled as Happy pulled out a badge and held it to the door handle. The door buzzed before it beeped and swung open. 

The inside was a smaller room. It looked like a waiting room. There were soft chairs lined around the wall and a white desk where a brown haired lady typed away at a desk next to another fogged door. It was a nice room, but the feeling it gave off was closer to the tension of waiting in front of the principal's office after being caught doing something wrong. 

Peter must have been the only one who felt that mood, because the secretary lady didn’t look up when Happy cleared his throat expectantly. 

“Miss Potts is expecting you.” She said.

Peter’s brain stalled. Wait. Miss Potts, as in Pepper Potts, the fiancee of Mr. Stark, the CEO of SI, one of the top ten business women of the entire world, wanted to see him. Him. Peter Parker. The disappointing secret son of Tony Stark. He blinked dumbly.

“Thank you, Miss Jennings.” Happy pushed Peter to the second door, opened it, and shoved both Peter and himself through. 

Peter blinked again, barely taking in the room’s white walls, large paintings, silver bookshelf, and potted plants as his attention focused on the wooden desk in the center of the room and the women who sat behind it. 

The woman glanced up as the door clicked shut behind them. She dropped the pen and rose from her seat. One hand pushed some loose hair back over her shoulder, then was held out in greeting as Happy pushed him closer.

“Hello, Peter.” said the Pepper Potts, warmly. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Peter’s shoes tapped the edge of the desk, kick starting his brain into action and he reached out and shook her hand. His palms weren’t sweaty, were they? He brushed his hands against his pants self-consciously after they let go. 

“H-hi.” Peter stuttered. “I’m Peter.” Then he blanched, and hurried to correct himself. “But you already knew that because you said it, obviously. I just got so nervous that I didn’t notice, not because you’re scary or anything, well, you kinda are-not in a bad way! Not in a bad way- I’m just super nervous and very anxious and, and, and, and totally rambling, I’ll stop talking now.” He clamped his mouth shut and looked at the ground. 

Miss Potts chuckled softly and Happy sighed. Peter’s cheeks burned as he stared at the tile. 

Miss Potts touched his shoulder, then his chin. Peter raised his eyes to meet her own. She offered him a kind, warm smile that he clumsily returned. “That’s okay Peter. I’m used to being rambled at. Tony is a master at talking about everything and nothing at the same time.” 

His smile faded at the mention of Mr. Stark. Miss Potts pretended to not see it as she dropped her hand. She took a step back. “Tony’s told me a lot about you. He’s always got something good to say, whether I asked or not. I’ve wanted to meet you for a while now, but I wish it was under better circumstances.” 

Peter ducked his head. “Yeah. Me too.” 

There was a half a second of silence before Miss Potts spoke again. “Please, have a seat.”

He blinked in surprise at the two chairs that lounged at the front of the desk. Where those always there? He must have missed them when he came. Peter hesitantly slid off his backpack and hugged it. He gingerly sat on the edge of the plastic chair, spine going stiff to not touch the back. 

Happy took in the other chair. Most of the tension he had been holding all day dissipated as he slouched next to Peter, though some did linger. Across the desk, Miss Potts also sat, her position prim and proper and everything one would expect from a CEO. Suddenly feeling disrespectful, and not wanting to look like a scared child hugging his backpack, Peter dropped it to the floor and brought his hands to his lap. 

Miss Potts stared at him, though not unkindly. It was a gentle ‘I-can-see-into-your-soul’ sort of stare, the same one that May had. One of the ones that examined him, looked at his body language for tells, caught the tiny signals that Peter unconsciously gave off and somehow interpreted those to find his true thoughts and emotions. MJ could do it too, though her stares were less gentle and more unsettling. Was it just a girl superpower thing then? 

Against his will, Peter’s right knee started to bounce as he fidgeted with his fingers. He forced his leg to stop and gripped the sides of the chair to keep his hands still. He didn’t dare look up. After a couple of seconds of silence, Peter glanced at Miss Potts through the fringes of his hair. 

Miss Potts was smiling like she had a hard question that was just confirmed. Peter ducked his gaze back down as she cleared her throat. 

“I know about you and Tony.” She said simply. 

Peter’s lungs tightened. All of his fears and concerns rushed back in one overwhelming tsunami of anxiety and terror and something went _crunch_ under his grip. 

Miss Potts and Happy both jumped up at the sound. Peter barely noticed them move, hyperfocused on the wet that suddenly erupted from his fingers and palms. Shakily, he raised one hand to his face. Clenched in his bleeding fist was a large chunk of splintered plastic in the same color of his chair. As he watched, a drop of blood started to make its way down his wrist. 

“Peter!” Miss Potts was up and around the desk in the same time it took for Happy to stand up. She grabbed his wrist and laid his hand horizontal as her eyes roved over the damage. 

Happy grabbed Peter’s other hand and brought it next to the other one. He hissed at the bloody sight. “Holy crap kid. What did you do?” 

Peter didn’t answer. Instead, his brain chose to work on unclenching his fists. Slowly, despite the minor stings, his right fist open, followed by the left. Blood covered splinters fell to his lap. Miss Potts let out a little sad sound at the splinters that stuck into his hand.

“Looks like he broke the chair.” She said when it was clear Peter wasn’t about to speak. She rolled the sleeve of his jacket up to elbow to keep it out of the blood that dripped. 

There was a whistle. “Kid did more than that. He broke the chair and splintered his chunk-full into pieces. Just look at his hands. I’ll get the first-aid kit.” 

Happy’s grip vanished and Miss Potts grabbed his other hand. She flipped them both palm up, leaving the damage easily visible. She made another distressed sound at the sight. “There should be some tweezers in my desk. Top drawer, third to the left.” 

There was an answering grunt and the sound of papers being shoved aside. 

Miss Potts rolled up his other sleeve as blood continued to run down his arm. She reached behind her and grabbed some pieces of paper and placed it on his lap to catch the drip. Her soft hands returned to their previous spots, and, almost on instinct, her thumbs started to make comforting little circles on the inside of his wrists. 

“I’m sorry Peter.” She said quietly. “I should have given you some sort of warning before we delved into this topic. Tony is good at hiding his pain, so I should have figured you could do the same. I should have paid more attention to your feelings rather than how much Tony I could see in you. That was my fault. I’m sorry.”

The ‘I’m sorry’ pierced through Peter’s brain. The beginning of tears pricked at his eyes as the pain in his hands doubled. All his senses kicked into overdrive. He instantly felt every nerve in his body, heard the heartbeat of everyone on the floor, smelled the perfume that lingered in the air weeks later, tasted the school fajitas he ate for lunch. Every single splinter that punctured his hands screamed, but the ache of having to listen to such a wonderful woman who resembled his aunt so closely apologize for something she didn’t do was worse. 

“Don’t...” Peter croaked. Miss Potts blinked, startled. “Don’t. It’s not your fault. That was on me. I should have been more prepared for this moment.” 

Happy appeared back at their side with a small white box and tweezers in hand. He sat on the chair, popped the box open, and dug out a tube of antiseptic cream. He took one hand from Miss Potts and started after the splinters with the tweezers. The freed pieces of plastic plunked onto the paper on Peter’s lap.

Miss Potts raised an eyebrow. Peter didn’t know how someone could pull off a gentle eyebrow raise, but Miss Potts did it somehow. “Prepare? What were you expecting?”

“Screaming.” Peter swallowed a pained grunt as Happy removed a particularly bothersome sliver. “Polite screaming, the kind that’s not actual screaming but more like coldly blunt words that practically are screaming ‘We never want to see you again don’t ever talk to us again’. Maybe some NDAs to keep me silent on the whole,” Peter motioned to himself with his elbow. “being related deal. And maybe my Spider-man suit being taken. But definitely orders to never see or talk to you or Mr. Stark again.” 

Peter kept his gaze down, his eyes lingering on his wrists. As nice as it had been to get that all out, he really didn’t want to see how the adults took to his emotional turmoil. Too bad he could kind of tell. Happy’s hands had paused in their work and Miss Potts’s grip on his wrist tightened, her thumbs coming to a halt. 

Quietly, gently, Miss Potts’s voice came from in front of him. “Why would you think that?” 

He slumped a little in his seat. “Because… because I’m me. I’m stupid and make a lot of mistakes and I’m pretty sure Mr. Stark hates me.” 

Peter heard more then saw the two adults share a glance. Happy went back to picking splinters. Miss Potts restarted her thumb rubbing. 

Miss Potts sighed. It was tired, the same sigh May gave through the door when Peter barricaded his room, blaming himself for Ben’s death for the third time that week only a month after it happened, despite all of May’s reassurance that it wasn’t Peter’s fault, he didn’t shoot the gun. It had the same haunted quality to it, one that spoke of the repetitiveness of the action. Miss Potts’s free hand touched Peter’s cheek. Surprised by the touch, he looked up and met her eyes. 

“Peter.” Miss Potts started. Her thumb swept along his cheekbone and she gave an understanding smile. “Tony doesn’t hate you.” 


	5. Lots of Talking, Lots of Emotion

All the air left Peter’s lungs with a giant _whoosh_. He stared at Miss Potts, eyes wide. He barely noticed when Happy started to apply some antiseptic cream to his hand because all his focus was on her, because there was no way Miss Potts was right. No way. She had to be lying. “Wh-what?” 

“Tony doesn’t hate you. In fact, it’s the opposite. He loves you. He loves you very much, a whole lot more than I think he realized.” Miss Potts repeated. 

The tears were back, burning in the corner of his eyes. He stared at Miss Potts, unable to look away as he spoke the words that had scorched into the back of his mind since he woke up yesterday. “Then why did he kick me out?” 

He sounded pitiful, like seconds away from bursting into tears. Which was the truth, but Peter was fifteen years old; he had some pride to uphold after all. A fifteen year old shouldn’t be bursting into tears because someone didn’t like them. Even if that someone turned out to be their secret father who also happened to be their childhood idol and recent superhero mentor. 

What Peter wanted was the truth. He wanted to know what made Mr. Stark push him out of the lab. He wanted to know what was going through the older man’s mind as he did so, even if it ended up hurting Peter’s feelings by tearing him apart by the seams and left him alone to pick himself up afterwards. The truth hurts, and that’s okay. At least with the truth, he could start to heal without the uncertainty of being lied to. 

“Because he was scared.”

Peter blinked. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. 

“Scared?” He repeated, half convinced he’d misheard her. “But, but he’s Tony Stark. Iron-man. He shouldn’t be afraid of a teenager who runs into walls because he’s not paying attention.” 

Pepper took a deep breath. Her eyes jumped around Peter’s face. She noted the way his eyebrows furrowed as he waited, the glimmer of unshed tears that clung to the corner of his eyes; the sadness, concern, and surprise that those eyes reflected back. It was a look she’d seen many times before on Tony and Peter echoed it with surprising— or unsurprising — quality. 

“If there is one thing you must know about Tony,” Miss Potts started. “It’s that he tends to think everything is his fault. That everything he’s done is going to come back and bite him in the butt because he’ll do something that messes it up. It makes him paranoid over every move he makes. He second-guesses and makes protocol after protocol in hopes to cover any horrible outcome that he can think of. It’s something he’s always struggled with, but after Ultron and Sokovia it got worse. 

“Past choices that come back to hurt us happens to everyone, but Tony’s tend to be more explosive and dangerous than a regular person’s. He realizes that, which is why he is careful in who he allows himself to be around. To keep people safe, he drives them away. Only the most stubborn stick around, and because they do, he values them deeply. And because he loves these people so much, he takes their protection very seriously, and it hits him hard when one of his mistakes come back and gets his loved ones involved.”

Miss Potts chuckled morosely. Memories of the past danced behind her eyes, and Peter swears he could almost see fire flickering in them as she continued. “I think that has always been part of the reason why he was so afraid to ever have a child. Tony knew that if he ever made a mistake and his child got hurt because of it, he could never forgive himself. And right now, he’s afraid he made a mistake. He’s afraid that he hurt you beyond repair.” 

She offers Peter a soft smile. Happy reached under her and grabbed Peter’s other hand. More splinters bounced onto the paper.

“I know for a fact that Tony loves you. It’s pretty obvious to Happy and I or anyone who watched him mother hen over you. He loves you more than he realized, and I think with the reveal yesterday the full weight hit him. I don’t know why Tony removed you from the lab. He doesn’t either. Tony is… : she hesitated, searching for the right word “...emotionally constipated at times. When overwhelming emotions hit him, he shuts down and reacts without thinking. It’s something that he’s done for years and what’s gotten him into most of his trouble. I’ve been working with him to sit back and process when emotions hit, but I think the shock of finding out you were his son was too much at once. 

“But afterwards, when I visited him later, all he could do was think about you. He worried that he destroyed you through a mistake he had made. He thought he destroyed your whole world and then cruelly abandoned you and that you were going to hate him forever.” 

The “I could never hate Mr. Stark!” that bursted out of Peter’s mouth startled them all. Embarrassed and shocked by his outburst, Peter slumped in the chair and looked at the floor. “He’s way too amazing of a person to hate. He’s made mistakes, but he’s done so much for the whole world than I ever can. I could never hate him.” 

“Just as he could never hate you.” Miss Potts said. “Peter, Tony looks at you like you're the world. He talks and talks about you, never saying a bad word. After the fight in Leipzig airport and what happened in Siberia, I thought Tony was going to drop back into all his bad habits. The drinking and staying up for days in a row with no sleep or food. But you know what... he never did. He never fell back to those because he had a super powered teenager to fuss over and be an example to. Tony rarely cares about what people think about him. Its a product of being famous for his entire life. But he cared about you enough to try to be better and not fall into a depression because your opinion matters to him.”

Peter sniffed and his eyes watered. Yeah, he knew that Mr. Stark had _liked_ him. Mr. Stark was a busy man, running the Avengers, working on his company, smoothing things out with the government, being Iron-man. The fact that Peter got to spend so much time with the man was a miracle and proof that Mr. Stark did care for him somewhat. 

To know that the man _loved_ him though, that was something else entirely. It was almost unbelievable. 

Happy started with the antiseptic on his hand. The cream was cold and it stung the deeper punctures that hadn’t healed yet. Peter unconsciously flexed the other hand, feeling the way the freshly healed wounds tinged. 

He…. he did believe Miss Potts. About Mr. Stark caring about him. Normally he wouldn’t believe anyone telling him about Mr. Stark’s feelings because how could Peter know they were sincere, but this was Miss Potts. She was a long time girlfriend-now-fiancée of Tony Stark. She had been by his side for almost two decades, through the thick and thin of his extravagant and dangerous life. She, out of everyone in the entire world, probably knew him best. 

She had no good reason to lie about it either. It made no sense to lie. All that would do is create more complications and weave a tangled web of lies that they’d eventually trip over. It would be easier to say Tony wanted nothing to do with Peter and then send him on his way. Instead, she had invited Peter to her personal office. She took valuable time that could be spent on more important things to sit with him and explain what went wrong. She comforted him and was concerned that he’d gotten hurt. This was way too much effort to put into a lie. 

Plus, Peter could feel the passion of her speech. Miss Potts’s emotions were raw, with a voice of true emotion that filtered through the mask a business woman had to put up. If there is one thing he’s always respected, its passion. He was passionate about being Spider-man, so how could he expect people to care about his passion if he didn’t respect theirs? 

And... and he really, really, really wanted Miss Potts to be right. The same part of his brain that wanted May to like and love him wanted the same thing from Mr. Stark. It felt the same desperation he had years ago right after his parents— or his mom and step-dad (adoptive dad?)’s —death when he was staying with May and Ben for the first time and was trying to make sure they wouldn’t send him to foster care or out for adoption. 

So, Peter believed her. Mr. Stark actually liked him. No, it was more than that. Mr. Stark loved him. He loved him. He didn’t push Peter out of the lab because he was a disappointment. Mr. Stark pushed Peter out because he cared, and that was his weird reaction to show it in a messed up way. 

A strange feeling rushed through Peter. It, it felt good. Like a warm beam of sunshine after a long cloudy day. Thai food after a week of home-made dinner attempts. Like web slinging after a stressful day of school, a release of tension and pure joy rush through his system. 

There was always going to be that little thought in the back of his mind that said “ _You’re not good enough to be here. Mr. Stark doesn’t actually care about you.”_ Peter doubted it would ever go away. For now at least, he could kick it to the curb and tell it to shut up. 

The tears in the corners of his eyes didn’t go away, but a smile crept on his face.

“Okay.” Peter swallowed thickly. “I, I believe you.” 

“Good.” Miss Potts cupped his cheek with one hand and smiled at him again. Her face was lighter, not as downtrodden as it had been only minutes before. It made Peter’s smile grow.

Happy let go of his hand and took a wipe and went at the blood that had trailed down Peter’s arms. Peter mumbled his thanks, to which the man grumbled back about it being his job. There was a good sized pile of splinters on his lap that Peter winced at the sight of it. Happy grabbed the paper and balanced the stack of bloodied plastic shards to dump it in the small trash can next to Miss Potts’s desk. The trash can let out an unusual _whir_ that piqued Peter’s interest for a brief second before he brought his mind back to the conversation. 

“Is,” Peter shifted in his seat, mindful to not catch his jacket on the sharp points on the chunks he ripped out either side of the chair. “Is that all Miss Potts?” 

“No.” She said and Peter froze. “First, I want you to call me Pepper.” 

“O-oh. Uh.” He stuttered, caught off guard. 

“If we are going to get to know each other better, because I know we will, I want you to start calling me Pepper. ‘Miss Potts’ feels like we’re in a business meeting and I go through way too many of those in a day.” She placed her hands on his knees and squeezed them to emphasize her point. 

Peter nodded. “Yes ma’am.” 

He’d known Mr. Stark for almost five months by this point and he still called him Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark tried several times to get Peter to call him by his real name, but it felt disrespectful to call the man who had done so much for him and the entire world by his first name, so Peter never had. Plus he liked the face Mr. Stark made every time Peter failed to call him by his real name. It was kind of like an inside joke between the two of them. 

‘Mr. Stark’ was a safe and respectful honorific, one that never seemed too personal because Mr. Stark was big on personal space, and Peter could respect that. Some people needed that space, and Peter wasn’t greedy enough to push. It was incredible enough he got any attention from Mr. Stark, so if the man wanted the distance he would get it. Now that distance was one safeguard keeping Peter from having another mental breakdown. 

Now Pepper Potts asked him to call her by her first name, which partly eliminated one of those safeguards. It felt like a big step, going from professional and distant to personal, and dare he say it, friendly. Peter was hesitant to take it. He was going to though, obviously, because Miss Potts was scary and nobody turned down her and got away with it. 

Mis- _Pepper_ smirked. “Ma’am’ is better. It’s probably too much to ask for a solid ‘Pepper’ right away. You’re too polite to jump straight to first names. You’ve got manners, unlike Tony.” She patted his cheek and took the seat Happy had abandoned. The Asset Manager huffed but didn’t complain at the thievery. 

“Second,” Pepper looked Peter in the eye and he wasn’t brave enough to break the gaze. “I’m going to need your help. I may be able to stop you from spiraling into a vicious cycle of self-blame and depression, but I can’t stop Tony. I know that he will want to make things up between the two of you, and I’ve tried to tell him that you are open to it, but he won’t listen. Rhodey and Happy could say the same thing and he wouldn’t believe them either. The only person who can make him believe otherwise is you.” 

Peter’s breath caught in his throat and he swallowed. His fingertips tingled under the bandages. Just because he knew that Mr. Stark didn’t hate him it didn’t mean all his anxiety and nerves were gone. This was nerve wracking stuff! People get nervous around childhood heroes and he knew some kids got nervous around their dads, so it shouldn’t be weird that he would feel anxious about seeing Mr. Stark again. The man was both his childhood hero and dad, two nervous things combined into one. 

To be honest, Peter kind of did want to see Mr. Stark again. How could he not!? Mr. Stark was such incredible and interesting person it was hard to stay away. It was just, whenever they meet again, it was going to be really, really awkward and Peter still needed some space. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since the discovery. There was still the shock factor on the discovery plus some lingering feelings on being shoved out of the lab so unceremoniously. Peter still needed some time to absorb all that he learned today as well. He hadn’t mentally prepared himself for whatever conversation would follow after the awkward greetings they would share the next time they saw each other. So as much as he wanted to, Peter didn’t think he could handle seeing Mr. Stark today. 

Pepper seemed to sense his hesitance, because she took both his wrists and gave him a comforting smile. “You don’t have to do it right now. Tony’s not going to shut down and die if you don’t do it today. It’s more important that _you_ are ready to face him, because he’ll catch on to any uncertainty and blame himself for it.” 

Peter broke eye contact and kept them on his knees as bounced his leg twice, reluctant to look her in the eye. He flexed his hands uncertainly in her limp grip. “I don’t want to do it today, if that’s fine with you.” 

“That’s totally okay.” She let go of his wrists and pulled a Starkphone out of nowhere. It was a white version of Mr. Stark’s phone, the one he’d shown off in Peter’s bedroom. “Do you mind giving me your phone number? That way you can text me whenever you’re ready.” 

Peter’s mind went blank as he stuttered out his phone number. His thoughts spiraled endlessly between ‘ _oh my gosh, Pepper Potts wants my number’_ and ‘ _I hope I don’t embarrass myself by accidentally sending her a stupid meme’._ He felt faint when his phone vibrated with a text from an unknown phone number that bore a simple smiley face. He saved her as ‘Pepper’ in his contacts with a pepper emoji next to her name. 

He also proceeded to leave his backpack in her office when they left, remembered halfway down the tower in the elevator, convinced J.O.C.A.S.T.A to turn the elevator around, and ran all the way back so he could splutter out apologies to an amused Pepper, who was waiting by her office door with his backpack in hand. 

* * *

Tony rubbed his face, eyes straining to see the hologram right in front of him. It had been a month since he pulled his last all nighter. He was out of practice and feeling it. He was exhausted. His eyes blurred, hands shook, and he felt drained in a way that he hadn’t felt in months. Tony could probably collapse right there and not wake up for a while, but sleep was the last thing he wanted to do right now. 

If Tony slept, he would dream, and he knew his subconscious was terrible enough to pull up the one mental image he was desperately trying to keep out of his brain. Peter’s face after he kicked him out of the lab haunted Tony enough when he was awake, he didn’t need it in his sleep too. At least when he was awake he could distract himself. 

He’d finished at least twenty more projects after Pepper left yesterday before F.R.I.D.A.Y shut him down. So he occupied himself with several physical unfinished projects that he had laying around. When he finished, he took apart and reassembled the coffee machine so it spat out lasers, then put it back to normal. By the time he fixed it, F.R.I.D.A.Y deemed that a substantial amount of time had passed and let him back on the holograms. He completed ten more projects, then got bored and decided to hack the Pentagon for the heck of it. 

Apparently the Pentagon hadn’t been enough of a distraction, so he went after some private servers of rich businessmen he knew were doing dirty deeds and anonymously leaked the info to the government. Then for the heck of it, he hacked a Russian satellite and pointed it into the dark of space just so he could watch the scientists frantically point it back at Earth from the safety of his lab. He almost chose to try and pierce a Wakandan server he’d found while strolling the internet one day, but decided against it on the possibility of creating a global conflict. 

One day though. He’d try one day. 

Hours later, Tony had resorted to 3D Sudoku. It was just like regular Sudoku, just in a three dimensional cube instead of a square. So he had to not only keep track of the numbers going up and down the lines, but also the numbers inside the cube. He had F.R.I.D.A.Y create them and had only completed two so far. He was stuck on this one, one tiny number throwing off all his calculations, and his brain was too tired to catch what was probably a simple mistake.

By this point Tony was hoping he’d just crash hard enough to not dream. 

Of course, that didn’t happen. It would have been too easy if it did. But in the meantime he had F.R.I.D.A.Y running through police systems for something that might catch his attention. Nothing specific, just reports of illegal trafficking, drug busts, crime circles, robberies, operations that might appreciate the appearance of Iron-man. Normally Tony didn’t offer his services for small time felonies like that, but he was willing to take any distraction by this point. 

Case in point, F.R.I.D.A.Y let out a beep and pushed his Sudoku game to the side and projected a police report next to it. “I found a police report you might find interesting Boss. It was reported about thirty seconds ago in Boston about an ATM robbery that happened at twelve-thirty pm.” 

“Yeah, so?” Tony minimized the report to focus on the game. “What’s so special about that? ATM’s get robbed all the time.” 

F.R.I.D.A.Y enlarged it again and Tony scoffed as the Sudoku cube vanished. “It’s special because the damage found is extremely similar to the damage or the robbery that Peter tried to stop a couple months ago."

Tony froze. Peter’s devastated face flashed before his eyes and he closed his eyelids and took a deep breath to try and conquer the rush of emotions that followed. Oh gosh, that whole plane crash took a different perspective. He’d been pissed and concerned before, but now a whole other level of fear and anger was unlock focus on the case, Tony, focus. He swallowed. “So they have weapons from the vulture guy’s operation.” 

“It appears so.” The report was pushed to the side and a slideshow of pictures that showed the damage started. “The damageThe damage and energy signal  left behind appears to be slightly different, but similar enough to assume the weapons came from the same designer.” 

“Makes sense. We never did catch the guy who was making all the weapons. Toombs was smart, but not enough to build all that crap. Guess we should track his designer before he causes even more damage.” Tony stepped forward to get a closer look at the pictures. 

Whatever guns the robbers had used were powerful enough to cut through half an inch of solid steel. It looks like they had cut through the outer casing to pull out the metal box that contained all the money and then cut into the four-hundred pound steel box. The resulting mess was an ugly gaping hole in the sides. “Keep track of any reports that mention damage like this. Search for the unique energy signal. Mark the locations and try to see if we can find a radius of operation. It shouldn’t be as big as before with their boss gone. Dig up anything else you can find too.” 

“Will do.” The images disappeared. The three dimension Sudoku game appeared in its' place.

Tony stared at the numbers blankly. His hands absentmindedly fiddled with a screwdriver he had no memory of grabbing. 

“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y interrupted. “You have an incoming call from 'Honeybear'. Would you like to answer?" 

Tony blinked, his hands pausing. Why was Rhodey calling? He was back in Missouri with family on a semi-forced vacation. There wasn’t a reason Rhodey would call. Just a check-up then? It had been a while since Tony last called him. 

“Sure.” Tony flopped into the nearest chair. The screwdriver stayed with him, and he went back to messing with it. 

The speakers clicked and Rhodey’s voice rang through the entire room. “Tony, why did Pepper call me four times last night? She sounded pretty upset when I answered. She didn’t say anything when I asked, just said something about you and that spider-kid.” 

Crap. Exactly what Tony didn’t want to talk about. Great.

“Nice to hear from you to, honeybear.” Tony said instead. “How’s the family? Mama Rhodey still killing it at the crochet club?”

Rhodey hummed over the line, not falling for the distraction. “You know she kicks everybody’s butt. None of those weak-willed scamps stand a chance against her. Rest of the family is fine too, which is better than what you are right now.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine. I’m always fine. Just hanging out in my lab and working on some projects, you know, the usual.” Tony denied. The screwdriver moved faster in his hand. 

“Usual ‘I need help but don’t know how to deal with emotions’ routine.” Rhodey said dryly. 

Tony winced. “Harsh. But fair.”

There was a sigh from over the speakers. “Just tell me what it is Tones. If it involves the spider-kid, then I know it’s something serious, ‘cause you care about him. Was it an argument?”

“No.” Tony said immediately, then hesitated. “Maybe?” 

“Huh. Well, that’s better than you denying that there’s a problem in the first place. Okay, let’s break it down, start from the beginning. What started it?” 

Just like that, all of Tony’s reluctance suddenly vanished, and he found the words spilling out of his mouth in one long breath. “I was doing a DNA test and accidentally found out Peter was my kid in front of him and then kicked him out while we were both in shock.” 

There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, can you say that again? The spider kid is _your_ kid?” 

“He hates me now.” Tony continued instead. “I dropped that bomb on him and then kicked him to the curb because I’m too emotionally constipated to sit down and figure out emotions like a true adult. So he definitely hates me now.” 

Rhodey struggled for words on the other side of the line. Tony waited patiently, listening to the man’s breathing and made sure his own continued in a steady pattern. The screwdriver was still in his hands, knuckles white. 

“Dang.” Rhodey finally said. “That is one heck of a bomb.” 

“Tell me about it.” Tony groaned. He slumped in his chair and rubbed his face with one hand.

“But he’s really your kid? Like, for real?” Rhodey pressed. 

“Yeah.” Tony chuckled humorlessly. “Got a DNA comparison and everything. F.R.I.D.A.Y can send it to your phone if you want.” 

“Yes please.” Rhodey sounded way too excited for Tony’s liking. “Got any pictures as well? I want to see what my new nephew looks like.”

Tony frowned. That didn’t sound right. “Didn’t I show you Spider-kid’s profile already?” 

“No. You refused when I asked actually. Said something about how the kid didn’t want his identity out so you weren’t about to show me. Didn’t even give me a name. You were pretty protective of him even then.” 

“Yeah well, his name is Peter, if you didn’t catch that earlier. And I do in fact have pictures, plenty of them. His aunt sends me an embarrassing one every time he breaks a rule. Haven’t gotten one in a while, which I guess is good.” Tony summoned the holoscreen with a wave of his hand. F.R.I.D.A.Y had the pictures pulled up already. 

Just seeing Peter’s face sent a stab of pain into Tony’s heart, because the kid’s betrayed face from the lab flashed through mind. Tony batted it away, focusing on whatever Rhodey was saying. 

“Why are you going through the kid’s aunt? Isn’t that a major violation of trust or something?” 

“Not when the aunt is his legal guardian.” Tony countered. His eyes lingered on a photo of toddler-Peter with an unholy amount of lasagna smeared on his face. The kid was beaming brightly at the camera, uncaring of the mess. It was one of Tony’s favorites. “His mom and adoptive dad died in a plane crash when he was four, so his uncle and aunt took him. The uncle was killed about a year ago in a mugging gone wrong. Just him and his aunt now.” 

And not even that for much longer. 

“Wow. Rough life. Kid’s been through a lot….” Rhodey hesitated, fully aware what he said next could bring, then carefully tacked on “At least he has you now.” 

Guilt rose in Tony’s stomach, mixing with hundreds of other emotions in a sloppy mess that came out as anger and disbelief.

“No!” Tony snapped. His grip on the screwdriver tightened. “He doesn’t have me. If anything, he wants nothing to do with me!” 

“Tony…” 

“Don’t ‘Tony’ me. I messed up. I know I messed up. And because of that, Peter is hurting, and it’s _my_ fault. This is just what I do, Rhodey. I hurt people. I hurt Peter, I hurt you, I hurt Pepper, I hurt Happy. That’s just who I am. I’m sad that it happened, but I’m glad Peter finally realized that and is smart enough to stay away before I could hurt him even worse.” Tony hissed. Anger flowed through his veins, making his vision turn bright red, his jaw muscles clench, and teeth ground together. “And you want to know the worst part?” 

“... Yeah.” Rhodey said, voice filled with emotion that Tony couldn’t bother to name in the moment.

“The worst part is that I wish he’d come back. I miss him. I’m so sad he’s gone that it feels like I’ve been stabbed in the heart every time I think about him. Every time I picture the face he made after I shoved him out of my lab it feels like the palladium poison is back again but ten times worse. I want him back, despite the hurt I put him through and knowing that I will only do it a thousand more times. I should be the better person and keep him away, like Peter wants, but all I can think about is selfishly getting him back.” 

Tony hung his head. Tears  burned at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t bother to wipe them. He deserved their momentary discomfort. Distantly, he wondered why they appeared now, not after Siberia, not after watching his parents being murdered on a tiny screen, only to find out one of the few people he considered to be a close friend had known the entire time, and not after that same friend chose his parent’s murderer over him. 

“Tony.” That was Rhodey again. His best friend was hesitant, speaking slowly like he could hear Tony’s tears and was afraid of setting them off. “Have you asked Peter what he wants?” 

Tony scoffed. “No. He doesn’t want to talk to me, remember?” 

“That’s what you think. But do you actually know?” 

He paused. Allowed, just for one second, for the small hope that maybe, just maybe, Peter might want to stick around. Then the memory of his face appeared again, and the same emotions welled up inside him; the anger, the disgust, all directed at himself; and Tony let that hope shrivel into dust. 

“No. I don’t have to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. If you haven't figured it out by this point, I'm a h*cking slow writer. So, so, sorry about that. Getting those first four chapters out so close together was actually pretty unusual, and was largely due to the fact it was pre-written and I was mostly just cleaning it up. Not so much for this chapter. It didn't help that I got distracted with other story ideas and read a ton of fanfiction either (Seriously guys, my brain won't stop coming up with ideas and not giving me the attention span to finish them. I've got four other stories I'm working on. FOUR! And I don't even know how many of those will actually make it out of google docs). Once again, so sorry. Just expect long breaks between chapters from now on. If I drop the story, I'll say something, so if its been a while, just know I'm still (slowly) working on it. 
> 
> (Mini rant next. Skip if you want :) )
> 
> And on a completely different note, which has absolutely nothing to do with this story but is bugging me so I want to talk about it, is... what is up with the fandom's hatred of Brad from Far From Home? People really seem to despise him. It's even infected his wiki page to the point where the 'personality' section of the page sounds like its describing a different character. 
> 
> Like, the dude is actually a good person, but most of the time he's put down as a bully even worse then Flash. He's funny, honest, and educated. I know those don't excuse terrible acts done by terrible people with those same traits, but what did Brad do that was actually terrible? He caught Peter in that awkward situation and threatened to tell MJ. But was his choice to tell her really that bad? Think about it. If you liked a significant other and knew another person liked them and that the significant other liked the other person too, then you catch the other person showing unfaithful behavior, wouldn't you show the significant other so you could save them from a potential heart-ache? The only reason it was deemed 'bad' was because it was Peter being caught. Brad simply walked into a difficult to explain situation at the wrong moment, assumed something that wasn't unlikely based on the circumstances and the rumors of Peter going around the school (for example, Susan Yang thinking Peter was a male escort), and decided to protect the girl he liked. That seems like a pretty decent thing to do to me. 
> 
> Really though, everyone is free to have their own opinion and characterization on characters. It’s just how it is. We all see the world a little different, so it makes sense we would see characters different. It just surprised me when I saw that the fandom hatred even affected the official Wikipedia, which I had viewed as an unbiased source of information until that moment. In Brad's wiki it says (and I copy and paste directly from the website) "...However, after Davis witnessed Parker in underwear along with the Seamstress whilst attempting to find the bathroom and thought he wanted to have sex with her, he showed his true colors: that of a callous, arrogant and despicable bully, taking a photo of Parker and threatening him to send it to all other classmates..." That seem blatantly different from what I remembered from the movie, so I went to YouTube and watched the scene where Brad catches Peter in his underwear.... and none of that happens. Yes, Brad threatens to tell someone, but it was only ever MJ. He never said he was going to tell anyone else. If Flash had been the one to walk in on Peter, he would have snapped that picture and shared it so fast that Peter would barely even have the time to pull up his pants. There was no arrogance, and the only callousness I saw the determination to show a picture an unfaithful person (in Brad’s eyes at least) didn’t want to be shown. 
> 
> Idk. There really wasn’t a point to this mini rant. It just seemed unfair to me that a decent guy would be dragged through the dirt like that just because he was being used to add drama. It was something that I wanted to get out, but had limited options of people interested to actually talk about it too. (Bless and thank you Jinmukang for putting up with my rants and even throwing in good points of your own). It doesn't even really matter in the end. So, if anyone actually read this, good job! You’re pretty awesome! And if you agree with me, cool. If you disagree with me, also cool. That’s your opinion, you have every reason to have it. 
> 
> (Mini rant over :) )
> 
> Feel free to comment and kudos if you like. Sorry about the long wait, but they are probably going to be common :(. For the people who read my rant, don't be afraid to comment, just please don't start a long argument over it. Opinions are fantastic, but long arguments in the comments take the fun out of the story. I saw that happen in another story and I literately felt the fun drain out of comments the more I scrolled down. 
> 
> Love you guys!!!


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